


Deep Under

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Eggpreg, Gags, Hypnotism, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Naga, Orgasm, Oviposition, Rutting, Sexual Slavery, Slaves, Snakes, Sort Of, VERY mild but its there, i dont know if i can make this clearer this is mostly just some sort of sex, if that wasnt clear from the first tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 23:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harry is a slave to a race of part-men part-snakes. Until the day he's purchased by one man in particular.





	Deep Under

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not for everyone. Read the tags carefully. If there is something I forgot to tag/you would like more explicitly tagged, let me know.

Harry sits on the cavern floor, wrapped in a heavy, itchy wool blanket in a multitude of colors. It’s the only thing he’s been given since arriving, and although the cavern is temperate, the blanket is the only thing keeping him from being completely nude save the collar around his neck, and he gratefully uses it as a covering. 

The collar is two fingerwiths thick and sits heavily around his neck, solid leather with a chain that connects to a loop on the ceiling. If he could only reach it, he’d be able to unlatch it - but it’s a good eight feet above him. He also doesn’t doubt he’d be instantly killed if he was found trying to escape. 

He’s alone. He’s often alone. In darkness save for the lanterns casting a faint glow from the hallway. There’s no door between his cavern and the outer hallway it’s attached to, nothing to keep people from coming in and out. He’s constantly watching the entrance because of it. Doesn’t like having his back turned, even in sleep. 

He gets visitors every few days. The passage of time is hard underground but it doesn’t feel like there’s any set schedule, just men coming in to use him when they feel the need. Usually they’re older, hairs beginning to grey and scales dulled. They stink of sweat and sag but still their strength is greater than Harry could ever hope to match, especially after being kept underground for so long. They take what they need and leave him cold and bruised, thinking forlornly of comfort and, in lieu of that, his next meal. At least generally after he’s been used he’s served meat as a reward. 

He longs to be anywhere but here, but of all the places he’s been bundled off to throughout his life, at least here he doesn’t need to fear low temperatures or lack of food.

Still, it’s an existence filled with waiting, and that chips away at Harry little by little.

— 

There’s a new man at the entrance. 

He’s younger than any of the others have been. Harry thinks he’s seen him going by in the tunnels, never noticed him so much as glance inside his own cavern. His features are smooth and sharp, young and lithe. His eyes glint an ocean blue in the light of the lanterns, his mouth a thin, serious line. The scales that start at his hips are a dazzling combination of blue and green, the snake tale that they turn into with spotted patterns of lighter blues across it. 

“Your name?” The man asks, his tail moving him smoothly into the room. 

Harry’s eyes are wide. The men don’t ask who he is. They don’t talk to him. “Harry,” he says, his voice cracking from disuse.

The man studies him. He nods. “Harry,” he says. “I’ve purchased you. You’ll come with me.”

Then his tail is slithering over and over itself, piling up until he’s tall enough to unhook Harry’s chain from the ceiling.

Harry gapes at him. Purchased? He wasn’t aware that could happen. 

The man turns, chain in hand, and slithers out of the room. It’s not long before Harry is forced to follow, or else find himself dragged by the neck. He stands hurriedly, wrapping the blanket around his middle, and begins to follow.

“Leave it,” the man says, glancing over his shoulder at Harry and the only thing he could be referring to - the blanket. “It stinks of others.”

Harry gulps. Shakily, he lets the blanket fall and stands naked in the cavern. 

It’s not like the man is any more dressed than he is, but his scales, starting just below his belly button, afford him a certain dignity that Harry is remiss of.

_ Bought. _ He’s been bought. What does that mean? Like rented out? Will he be returning? 

His bare feet pound the densely packed earth that make up the floor of the cavern as he struggles to keep up with the man. His tail is long enough that even with the eight or so feet of chain, Harry has to be careful not to step on it as it slithers and whips around beneath him. 

The only time Harry had been through the tunnels of this particular colony was the day he was brought down to his cavern. They’re going deeper now, clearly further into the Earth than he would have liked but it’s been such a long time since he’s seen the sun he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle it at this point anyway. 

The man in front of him has skin with a hint of bronze, clearly a sign that he leaves the tunnels regularly. Some of the older men who come - came? - to Harry are so pale that he wonders if they’ve  _ ever _ been above ground, or if they’ve lived their whole lives in these colonies connected under the earth. 

Usually snake men keep their chest close to the earth when they move, the lateral undulation of their tails sending them quickly from one place to the next. This man, Harry’s chain in hand, stays upright. His human half looking almost as if he were walking on two legs. Harry wonders if it’s because he’s going slowly in order to not outpace him. He’s already a little short of breath. 

They wind through the tunnels and fear pricks through Harry’s stomach at how hopelessly lost he’s become. He wonders if he’ll die tonight. 

Finally, there is a slowing, and a turning. The man glances behind at Harry, and motions with one hand as he makes a left into what is clearly a doorway, although of course without a literal door. They’re entering a dwelling of some kind, Harry thinks, as he follows him in on careful feet, the close contact meaning that the man’s tail presses up against him, cool to the touch and sending shivers up his spine as the scales rush by the skin of his ankles. 

The man slithers through this first room, large and barren, and down into one that’s about a yard lower, his torso disappearing through the hole near the earth floor, and the chain tugging insistently at Harry’s collar to follow. Harry comes over to the entrance and crouches, unsure how to safely get himself down to the floor of this new room. 

The man looks back at him, expectant. The room he’s in now is circular in design, and Harry is surprised to find it is absolutely covered in cushions and blankets.

Still debating whether to jump or slide down the wall, Harry finds the choice taken from him when the part of the man’s tail that is still up on his level slides around him and, as if he were no more than a loaf of bread, pushes him off the edge. 

It’s incredibly undignified, the squeak that comes out of Harry as he tumbles down and lands among the layers of the man’s tail. He scrambles up and away, not wanting to offend him, but is jerked to a stop as the chain connected to his collar has apparently ended up shortened, caught under one of the loops of blue scaley tail on the ground. 

“You’re clumsy,” the man says, his eyes sharp. He drops the end of the chain and Harry just watches it clatter to the ground. It’s still partially lodged under a portion of his tail, but it feels significant that it hasn’t been hooked onto anything.

Not that Harry could hope to find his way out. 

Suddenly, Harry finds himself surrounded by snake scales as the man circles him. He sits and draws his knees to himself, feeling keen eyes rake across his skin. 

“This room will be ours,” the man says. Harry has no clue what he means, the words simply making no sense in his mind. “You belong to me, and I will take responsibility for you.”

“Can I know your name?” Harry croaks, wary of asking even that much but needing to know so much more. Why would the man buy a human in the first place? Surely there are easier ways to gain pleasure on the regular without having to care for another living being.”

The man nods. “You may call me Louis.”

Louis. 

Suddenly, Louis’ face is mere inches from his own and Harry gasps leaning back. The man’s hands are at his throat and he fears for the worst but all that happens is a  _ clink _ and the chain itself coming loose. Louis throws it on the ground behind them, and Harry reaches up to trace at where it once was. The collar is still there, but without the heavy weight of the chain it feels different. Different in meaning, somehow. 

Louis’ hands ghost across his shoulders, his chest. Harry takes in a shuddery breath, not daring to move. 

“Look at me,” Louis says, and Harry does, looking up and focusing only momentarily on his mouth before adjusting and locking eyes with him. Blue eyes, as deep as the ocean gaze back, and it feels as though Harry could fall right into them. 

Making eye contact feels like something forbidden, but now that doing it Harry couldn’t possibly look away. He feels trapped under that gaze, under the blue of a body of water he hasn’t seen in nearly a decade. He can feel the pull of the water, the pull of the waves, the rocking of a boat upon rough seas. Harry blinks and it feels like he’s drowning, surrounded by water that crashes down on him, pulling him under, into the deep. He feels as though he can barely breathe. Underwater, the current pulling him downward, downward into a blue darkness. 

Then Louis blinks. 

He leans back, breaking eye contact, and Harry gasps, pulling in air desperately. It’s difficult, not because he’s underwater, but because something is keeping him in place. His head falling forward, Harry sees coil upon coil of blue scales wrapped around him, at least ten inches in thickness each time. 

It’s not a new sensation for Harry, but Louis’ age means his scales are still bright, his tail stronger than most of the men who have come for Harry. He sits now, wrapped in scaley coils, and feels the way they contract and release, contract and release, ever so slightly as if they’re following Louis’ breath. In, and out. In, and out. Each time it feels like they draw a little tighter, and Harry squirms just a little in the hold. There’s no way he could ever break free, and that makes Harry squirm more, reluctant to meet Louis’ eyes, even as he knows he’s being watched like the prey he is. 

The coils reposition him, lay him out along the floor among the blankets, only to add another few loops, until he’s completely covered in Louis’ body, up to his shoulder. Harry tries to draw in a deep breath but feels it knocked out of him as he’s squeezed tighter than before. 

The scales are smooth and cool against his heated skin, and Harry moans as they slide against his dick, loosening again. 

Rarely if ever did he find himself turned on by the old men who used him, but just with Louis’ gaze upon him Harry can feel himself flushing, his cock thickening between his legs and the scales pressed against them. 

Louis smiles, ever so slightly, and Harry moans as the scales tighten again. 

The thing about tails is that they are so long compared to the human half of the body, Louis can remain relatively far from this exchange. Harry doesn’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s a thing that very suddenly changes, as the coils around him twist and write and Louis’ human half is now directly above him, his hands like claws in Harry’s hair. 

Harry’s lips form Louis’ name but before he can say anything, Louis is kissing him, rough and forceful, knocking his head back against the ground. Harry grunts, but Louis’ hands in his hair steady him, and Harry finds himself giving in to whatever Louis asks, his lips rough and insistent, before moving on to biting at Harry’s lips, his jaw, down to his neck.

Harry pants, wishes desperately that he had use of his hands, his arms,  _ something _ so that he could direct Louis’ lips back to his. His whole body is immobile though, trapped inside the coils of Louis’ own, and he can do nothing but squirm in his hold. Fully hard now, he works his hips for at least a bit of friction, but with little reward. 

Harry moans. “Please,” he says, voice thick. “Louis—”

Louis nips at his skin again and Harry’s moans turn to whines, feeling desperate for  _ something _ for  _ more. _

Then Louis’ coils are moving, shifting, and for a brief second Harry feels friction against his cock and he thrusts up against it, only to find himself entirely flipped over, the coils moving him effortlessly as they shift, contract, loosen, contract, loosen… 

And shift again, leaving his ass uncovered and his face against the blankets below him, as Louis’ human half lays above him, unbothered by the change he’s created, nipping at the skin below Harry’s ear. 

Harry moans into the blanket, face down, feeling humiliated to be exposed like this, even after having followed Louis all the way here without a scrap of clothing on. His ass up in the air like he’s presenting, Harry knows what’s coming even as Louis shifts above him, some of his weight lifting as his hands disappear from Harry’s shoulders. 

Instead they reappear at his cheeks, spreading them and then probing at his hole, one finger entering, gently at first and then more insistently. Louis’ a little more patient than many of the men have been, but still it’s not too long before Harry feels the burning stretch of something much larger than his finger. 

He groans as he feels himself filled, Louis’ cock buried in his ass one inch at a time. Unlike Harry, being only human, Louis is able to tuck his dick into a slit at the front of his tail, so while Harry hasn’t seen it, he can only guess at how large it is (very). The coils around his torso tighten as Louis pushes in, until Harry doesn’t think he can take a breath, and then loosen as he pulls back out. 

Harry writhes in the hold of the coils as they begin the same rhythmic dance as before, tightening and loosening, now in time with the thrusts of Louis’ dick into his ass, filling him and making him unable to breathe all at once. Harry can barely think, barely comprehend, all he knows is pleasure when Louis angles himself just right, and pleasure when the coils slide against his own neglected, leaking cock. His moans grow louder, overwhelmed at all the sensations, until all of a sudden the noise is cut off as the end of Louis’ tail buries itself in his mouth, touching the back of his throat. 

He gags, spluttering, unable to budge it with his tongue and unable to so much as bite it, the scales hard enough that Louis probably barely notices. 

Harry concentrates on breathing with his nose as his whimpers find their way around the snake tail blocking his mouth, filling him on one end while Louis’ dick fills his other end. Drool spills out the corners of his mouth and smears on his cheeks as he’s thrust forward ever so slightly with every tightening of the coils and thrust of Louis’ dick inside him. 

Even with the pain of being used this way, the pleasure building inside of him is something that he’s rarely experienced. Harry moans, sucking on the tail as the coils brush ever insistently against his dick and Louis’ rhythm speeds up, pounding into him with more strength and impatience. It becomes harder to suck in enough air through his nose and Harry’s vision begins to fade at the edges.

Then Louis falters, groaning as he releases into Harry, filling him up in steady pulses and uncoiling at the same time, finally pushing Harry over the edge as he shoots against the scales of the coils against his stomach, vision temporarily going black as he slumps forward. 

The tail slips out of his mouth and already Harry’s jaw aches and his mouth feels empty all at the same time. Even so, laying spend on the now dirty blankets below him, Harry can feel Louis’ dick still inside of him, pulsing a few times more before slowly pulling out. 

Harry feels sated and full. So full. Finally released from the coils of Louis’ tails, he rolls onto his back and groans, reaching a hand up to his stomach. He feels… larger. He looks down and finds his stomach looks as distended as it feels. Louis, looking tired, coils himself on the blankets around harry, blinking slowly at Harry as he lowers himself down directly next to him. 

“You are mine,” Louis says, voice gravely as he lays one arm over Harry’s stomach, on top of his own. “They are ours.”

_ They? _

“Our children will be ready to hatch in seven months. You are not to leave the nest before then.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. “Our- our children?”

“Eggs,” Louis says, his hand petting circles into Harry’s clearly protruding stomach. “You are mine. They are ours.” One massive coil of his tail slides over Harry’s legs. “Sleep. You will need it.”

A whimper escapes Harry’s mouth, maybe not one of fear but one of confusion, shock. Louis moves close to him and nuzzles underneath his chin. “My good human,” he says. “A fine mother.”


End file.
